Even If I Quit, There's Not A Chance in Hell I'd Stop
by Wofl
Summary: Raphael has a secret. Lucky for him, Mikey has a few of his own.
Something like an itch was building underneath Raphael's shell.

The breath left his lungs as he was thrown to the mat, Leo's weight pinning him down. "Yield," the elder hissed. Incensed, Raph was not ready to give up. He swung up a leg, tried to hook it around Leonardo's neck. The move was slow and poorly executed, easily blocked.

"I yield," he snarled, his struggles to get up becoming desperate as the itch became a tangible thing, gnawing at his insides. He was so beyond done with this.

"That was sloppy," Leonardo scolded, letting him up. "You're distracted."

Raphael growled, not in the mood for a lecture. He just needed to get away for a few minutes. Leo had been picking at the fraying threads of his patience all week. He felt like he was about to snap and unravel all at once. Sometimes his older brother just made him wanna…

"Get off my back Leo," he snapped, "we can't all be perfect like you."

"I never said I was perfect," Leo huffed, "but we all need to be prepared if-"

But Raph wasn't listening. The itch was burning, spreading, growing into a full body need that made him feel jittery and restless and _oh so_ impatient. "Stuff it Leo, I'm not in the mood," he growled.

Leo sputtered, his voice reaching a new decibel, but Raph was over it. He had a new agenda. He flipped Leo the bird and stalked towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Leo demanded hurrying to catch up with him. He caught Raph's arm in his hand, halting his progress.

"I need some air," Raph hissed, yanking his arm out of Leo's grasp. He turned on his heel and continued on his way. "And don't follow me."

* * *

Raphael chewed on his fingernails as he skulked behind a satellite dish anchored to a random rooftop. The was not the _right_ rooftop, but he was nearby. He just had to wait around a few minutes to make sure he didn't have an entourage. Of course, that would be the hardest part.

Now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't stop. His mind was on a track that went in a small circle.

The minutes dragged by. Raphael strained his senses, trying to detect the presence of any of his brothers. He stalled nearly ten minutes before he was satisfied that he was truly alone. Then he was on the move.

He hopped across a few rooftops before landing on top of a large brick building. He moved to the east corner of the roof and knelt down next to the parapet, slipping a sai free from his belt. He gazed around at his surroundings for a moment, peering out into the darkness. Nothing moved. No one had followed him. He was sure of it.

He worked his sai into a well-worn crack in the brickwork, wiggling a loose brick free. He set it aside, thrusting his weapon into the small dark hole, hooking it on a small paper carton. Sweet Jesus, _thank you_.

Another swipe of his sai and a battered zippo dropped out of the hole into his waiting hand. He fished one of the smokes out of the pack and brought it to his lips. The zippo sputtered in the wind, but did not go out. He set the flame to the tip of his long awaited prize.

The first inhale of a cigarette was always the best. It was the thing about smoking that always brought him crawling back to it. The perfect scratch to his itch, lighting up his nicotinic receptors like a pinball machine. When a craving hit him like this, Raph was helpless in its grasp.

He supposed it had been stupid to ever pick it up in the the first place, but dammit a teenager was entitled to a few stupid mistakes. It's not like he ever let it really become a habit.

And that was true. Raphael did not smoke on a regular basis. The pack he was drawing from had crammed into that hiding spot for over three months. A ratty box of marb reds, the long ones - 100s. The cowboy killers. More than half a pack remained. And they were starting to taste stale, he noted, but continued smoking anyways.

He stood from his crouch and moved to lean against the brickwork, inhaling a drag as he looked out over the city. He savored the scratchy feeling of smoke crawling down his throat, the crackle of the tobacco as it burned. He flicked the growing column of ashes away with a brush of his thumb and sent the tiny particles fluttering through the night air.

He exhaled, watching the smoke rise and dissipate. He blew a smoke ring, just for the hell of it.

"You know Leo would have a coronary if he ever caught you doing that?"

Raphael nearly jumped out of his skin. In his panic, he flicked the cigarette away, over the side of the building. He whirled around to face his unwelcome tag-along.

"Mikey," he snarled, starting forward.

Mikey _tsk_ 'd at him, shaking a finger. "That's a really grosstacular habit, bro," he noted. The shit-eating grin on his face was enough to make Raph see red.

"Yeah, and you're not going to tell anyone about it," he responded darkly. He really did hate to think of the lecture that would be in store if Leo ever caught wind of this, or worse, Master Splinter. He could justify it to himself by saying it was only ever once in a great while but he doubted the more _prudish_ members of their clan would see it that way. He would never hear the end of it. He raised a menacing fist at Mikey, to enforce his words.

"Uh, uh, I never agree to that," Mikey taunted. "This is well worth the butt whooping."

Good thing, because he was about to receive it. Raph rushed him, growling in frustration as Mikey danced out of the way. He about-faced and threw a kick at his younger brother, making solid contact. Mikey countered with a kick of his own and Raph snatched his leg out of the air, using his leverage to flip Mikey onto his shell. He dived on top of him, raining blows with his fists. After landing a few solid punches, Mikey squalled for mercy. He couldn't resist one more good sucker punch to the gut, then Raph relented.

Mikey sat up, nursing a split lip. "So," he said, "I think you're going to do my chores for me. For three months."

The grin had returned to his face. _Prick._ Raphael hoped it hurt him to smile. Raph was tempted to introduce him to the Son of Beatdown, fingers twitching back into fists at the thought. Then, after a moment's consideration decided it wouldn't be necessary.

There was more than one way to skin a cat… or sew a brother's lips shut.

There no way in hell was he going to be Mikey's chore lackey for a day, let alone three months. He snorted in amusement at the very notion. "How 'bout this," he countered. "You keep your mouth shut about this and I won't tell Leo who keeps killing off his bonsai trees OR who used his katana to unclog the toilet."

Mikey raised a finger, mouth opening to speak, to protest, but the words died on his lips. His eyes grew comically wide and his mouth closed with a snap. Mikey wasn't stupid, _or_ suicidal. He knew when he was beat. Reluctantly, he offered out a hand. "Deal," he said, and they shook on it.

Satisfied, Raph lit another cigarette.


End file.
